


Going for Gold

by thoughtsthatfester



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Gaby is a gymnast, Illya does judo, Modern Olympics AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsthatfester/pseuds/thoughtsthatfester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Olympic Games are a chance for elite athletes to compete against each other on the world stage. It's also a pretty good place to find love.</p><p>Gaby and Illya meet at the Olympic Village and sparks fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

She spots him in the cafeteria on the day before the team final. She noticed him the previous night, when after team qualifiers she climbed into the ice bath and let the cold burn silence her racing mind.

It was actually Brigitte who saw him first.

“Gaby,” she whispered, “look at him.”

Both at their first Olympic games, the gymnasts knew it would likely be their first and only appearance and were trying to make the most of it. Gaby had heard stories from older gymnasts about the games and she’d read all the articles after London about how many hundred thousand condoms were given out, but it could not have prepared her for Rio. Apparently there were enough free condoms in the village for each athlete to get 42. While she wasn’t planning on having sex with that many athletes, she planned on living it up. Even with her plan she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of attractive people everywhere. 

Gaby only catches a glimpse of him as he leaves the hot tub, but luckily he returns a few minutes later in his warm-ups and talks to one of the trainer’s before disappearing once again.

“Wow,” Gaby comments, “you’re right. He’s so hot.”

Brigitte crinkles her nose a bit, “too bad he’s Russian.”

“I don’t care. I’d hook up with him.”

“Well, I don’t want anything to do with any of them. I don’t think they should even be here.”

“More for me then,” Gaby smiles as Brigitte turns her attention to Spain’s water polo team as they enter the room. 

Barring a miracle or huge mistakes by every other team, they know they have no shot of winning a team medal. Gaby has an outside chance to medal in floor and there is a possibility (however small) that she could end up on the podium in vault as well. Regardless, this is likely the end of her professional career and she wants to go out on top – even if it’s not on top of a podium. 

The girls finished their breakfast already but no one is in a rush to leave the cafeteria. Everything everyone says is true. It is just like high school, or the first day of college. Gaby hasn’t really experienced either but it’s what she imagines them to be. Her entire world, her entire life has been consumed by gymnastics. Once it’s all over there will be time to do the things she’s missed out on – university, a serious relationship, traveling for something other than gymnastics. 

Finally they make eye contact from across the room. He’s also sitting with his teammates. They’ve also finished breakfast. It seems no one is in a hurry to leave the cafeteria. His eyes are so blue. They’re mesmerizing, even from across the room. 

“I’m going to go talk to him,” she tells Brigitte and Anne. 

“Who?” Brigitte asks, looking off at some other group of athletes.

“The Russian, from last night.”

“Oh, alright. I’m going to go over and talk to those track guys. Anne, are you coming?”

“Sure, I just wish the U.S. men’s basketball players were staying in the village.”

“I know,” Brigitte sighs, “but whatever, let’s go. Good luck with the Russian.”

The girls get up and leave the table. She doesn’t know where the rest of her teammates went, but it doesn’t really matter. She’ll see them later. 

Gaby’s eyes return to the Russian’s table but it’s empty. She scans the room hoping to find him again. With so many athletes staying in the village she can’t be sure she’ll find him again. Finally, she spots the group of men he was sitting with, but he’s noticeably absent from the group.

Resigned, she stands with the intention of joining her teammates and the track team they’re currently flirting with, but when she turns, she finds herself face to chest with the very man she was heading over to talk to. 

“Hello,” she says, taken aback.

“You would have a better shot at a medal if you were having more fun during your routine.”

“Excuse me?” she asks, dumbfounded. 

“You are tense. I think that is why you have not been sticking your landings.”

She’s confused. He’s been watching her perform but she knows he’s not a gymnast. She knows the Russian men’s team. “Are you a gymnast?” she asks pointedly, looking up at him.

“No.”

“Are you a gymnastics coach?”

“No.”

“Well then, thank you for the advice but you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I am sorry,” he musters, even managing to look boyish for a moment. “I did not mean to offend. You are very good, beautiful gymnast. You deserve to medal.”

Her anger fades and she chalks it up to something getting lost in translation. He really was trying to give her a compliment, trying to start a conversation. Anyway, he’s really cute and she’ll never see him again so who even cares. She starts to walk off to find somewhere more private and when he does not immediately follow, she looks back at him expectantly and he follows. 

“Well, you seem to know all about me, but I know nothing about you. What sport are you here for?”

“Judo,” he answers. “I’m Illya Kuryakin, from Russia.”

“I figured,” she says, looking at his team gear. “Why were you watching gymnastics?”

“I like the sport.”

“I figured, I mean why were you watching it and not judo? I thought judo had medal matches every day.”

“I think enough about judo. I do not need to watch more of it.”

“But why gymnastics?”

“I used to be a gymnast,” he says and she bursts out laughing.

“When?”

“Until I was eight.”

“What happened? You got too tall and had to move on?”

“Yes. They moved me to judo.”

“Hmm,” she says and then smiles flirtatiously. “So perhaps you are qualified to offer advice.”

It is then that she realizes the two of them have been walking towards the beach. She’s not sure which of them was leading but it doesn’t matter. She sits down in the sand and he joins her. 

He gives her a small, practically imperceptible smile. “I am glad.”

“So Illya,” she begins, leaning towards him, “how do you suggest I have more fun out there, be less tense?”

“Why did you first start gymnastics?” he asks, looking her straight in the eye.

“What?”

“Why gymnastics? Why not ballet? Why not football?”

“I started at the Berlin Ballet school – I kept using the bar to do flips and the instructors suggested I’d be better off in gymnastics lessons.”

“Think about that,” he tells her, his eyes softening. “Think about filliping off bars, not international elite gymnastics.”

“Is that what you do?”

“No.”

“What do you do then?”

“I find it better to be frustrated when I fight. For me it is good to be tense.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she sighs and they continue talking about their sports and training. She finds out this is his second Olympics and that he’s planning on retiring after these games. Soon an hour has passed and they’ve talked about everything and nothing. 

Illya’s got to go watch tape in preparation for his fight, but she really wants to see him again. He’s right. She is tense and she’d tumble a lot better if she just relaxed. She knows exactly how she’d like to do it, she’s just not sure he’s on the same page. 

“I want to see you later,” she tells him as he’s getting up to leave.

“Tonight?” 

“Yes. I have to check in with my coach at 11 but we should hang out before then.”

“Okay,” he says. “I will text you after dinner.”

She sits in the sand for another twenty minutes. Once again her mind has drifted to gymnastics even though she’s trying desperately to think about anything other than the second full in her floor routine. If she could only just point her toes a little more and stick her landings she might have a shot at a medal. But Illya’s right, she needs to relax. She knows exactly how she wants to do it. All that’s left is to get the hot Russian on board.


	2. 2

They meet up after dinner and somehow, she manages to talk Illya into coming to her room to hang out. Her roommate Brigitte has agreed to make herself scares until their meeting with their coach later that night. It should give her exactly enough time to get exactly what she wants from the Russian. 

If she’s being honest, she feels awkward about this whole thing. She’s had sex before but she’s never actually seduced anyone. She showers before dinner and puts perfume on her wrist instead of her neck in preparation. She even puts on her sexiest underwear set for the seduction. She slips on a casual cotton dress and sandals with a slight heel before heading to dinner where she mostly plays with her food instead of eating it. 

Brigitte, older and more experienced, offers some advice but Gaby ultimately ignores it in favor of the plan she spent the day concocting. After all, she actually conversed with Illya for a while and they got on really well. It shouldn’t take that much to get him in bed, but he does need some nudging. She smiles as she remembers their conversation. His comments about having more fun and being less tense were innocent suggestions, not the seduction tactic she’d immediately thought them to be. It’s all really sweet and innocent and he’s adorable. She’s sure he probably wouldn’t want to be called adorable, not when he’s in the second highest weight class in his sport, but he is, in fact, adorable. 

He shows up and actually wants to watch a movie. She pulls her laptop out of her bag and puts on a movie that she has no intention of watching. He sits down, back against her headboard, eyes focused on the screen. She flops onto her stomach beside him, propped up on her elbows to watch the film. Her dress rides up a bit and she crosses her ankles making sure her long, toned, tan legs are on display. 

“I’m so worried about the team final tomorrow,” she says during a lull in the film’s dialogue. She rolls over onto her back, leaning back on her elbows.   
“You will be okay. You should focus on the individual events, not team final or all-around. If I were a gymnast in your position, that is what I would do.”

“I’m just sooo tense,” she sighs looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “If I preform poorly tomorrow I am afraid I wouldn’t be able to recover for the individual events.”

“Relax,” he tells her. “Get a massage in the morning and just try to calm down.”

Gaby sees the opportunity and she takes it. “A massage sounds so nice right now.”

Illya looks at her with his crystal blue eyes and she wants to melt. He holds her gaze but she can’t read his expression or figure out what he’s thinking. 

“Lay down, I will give you massage now.”

She grins at him and throws her dress on the floor before he has a chance to react. She lies back down on her stomach and can feel him behind her. She expects him to straddle her but he doesn’t. Instead he kneels beside her and gets to work on her shoulders. 

His hands are big. That’s the first thing she notices. They’re a bit rough too but it feels so good. It’s a bit awkward at first but once he gets going it’s completely forgotten. She moans a bit when he presses exactly the right spot. 

“Lower,” she commands. He’s really good at this. Like, really good. If she weren’t so turned on right now she’d be really relaxed. 

He obeys and moves lower. His hands are just below the line of her bra. There’s something so juvenile about all of this, fumbling naked in the dark like the high school-ers they never got a chance to be thanks to elite international competitions and hours and hours of practices. He’s twenty-eight and she’s twenty-two but they may as well be sixteen. 

“You can unclip it if it’s getting in the way.” She practically dares him to do it, to take off her bra. 

She doesn’t think he’s going to do it because his hands move lower. She hears his breathing pick up a bit and he takes his hands off her back for a moment. She instantly misses the warmth. Then suddenly, his fingers are fiddling with her bra strap and he unclasps it. She props herself up for a moment and throws the bra onto the floor, joining her dress. 

It is now that he takes the opportunity and climbs on top of her. His knees are on either side of her hips and he puts more pressure into the massage. The warmth of him feels so good on top of her and she feels her skimpy black panties getting soaked through. 

She’s really moaning now and she feels like she could come from his hands on her back alone. She arches her back and brushes against him, feeling his hard-on against her butt. 

Feeling the friction, Illya lift his hips to gets some distance and Gaby takes the opportunity to flip beneath him. She grabs his hands and pulls him down on top of her. She palms his dick through his black jeans. 

“God Illya,” she practically growls. “I need you inside me.”

He looks at her with an unreadable expression and for a second she thinks he’s going to get up and leave but instead he leans down and kisses her. Her nipples harden as she brushes against his Team Russia T-shirt. She pops up on to an arm and angles herself against him, positioning a leg between his. It’s nearly too much for her, the heat of him. He’s a good kisser and his stubble is rough against her. She moans into him because she really can’t help herself. His lips find her neck and her hips jerk against him and she’s going to lose it. He moves down and takes one of her nipples in his mouth and she cannot wait any longer. She’s angled against his hip and she can’t help herself and starts grinding against him. She’s so tense and he’s so hot and his lips are worshipping her breasts and she cannot help herself. She squirms and grinds and she can’t control herself and suddenly her back arches and she’s rewarded with a small, brief orgasm that does little to relieve the tension. 

Illya sits back on his feet and ceases all contact with her. She thinks she’s offended him in some way but then he looks at her with hungry eyes. 

“You are very impatient,” he tells her. 

“Take your pants off,” she commands. 

“No,” he says. 

She pouts, about to start begging but then his hands are on her ankles and he’s jerking her up towards him. With a gentleness she does not expect he peppers kisses from a calf down to her inner thigh. Her breath hitches when he reaches his destination. He plants a hot, wet kiss on the hot, wet, black lace of her panties and then pulls them off. 

She’s completely naked and he’s fully clothed. It’s really not fair. She’s going to do something about it, but not until he’s done. She’s not about to interrupt him, not when he looks so serious, focused, and determined. 

He teases her, planting kisses on each thigh, his breath tickling her as he makes his way to the other leg. She is going to lose it if he doesn’t get on with it.

“Illya, please,” she begs. 

“You must learn to be patient,” he says and she decides she cannot take it for another moment. She will take matters into her own hands if he won’t. Her right hand finds her clit and she’s given a moment of relief before he flips her suddenly so she’s chest down on the bed with her arms in front of her. He’s maintained his hold of her legs and spreads her wide and tilts her hips to give him a better angle. Thank God for gymnastics, she thinks as she tightens her abs to stabilize herself and rests one cheek on the comforter. 

Finally, Illya flattens his tongue against her and she does everything in her power not to scream. He laps at her for a moment and she is already so close. He scrapes her lightly with his teeth and she can’t hold back the moans. 

“Illya, please,” she cries. 

He obeys her command this time and circles his tongue around her clit. She can feel another orgasm building in her stomach. The feeling of him, his lips on her, is nearly too much. She focuses not on him but on holding herself in place, taking deep breaths. She’s going to ride this out, not jerk herself away because she’s so sensitive to the touch of his tongue.

It builds suddenly and erupts with what she can only compare to the power of her body leaving the table as she vaults. He does not relent even as she squirms and moans and clenches her muscles. He does not stop until she stops shaking. Her orgasm lasts what feels like an hour but knows could not be more than a minute. 

He grabs her hips and flips her over onto the bed so she’s on her back looking up at him, her eyes glazed over and her knees spread. 

“Illya,” she begins, her voice raspy from screaming. “Oh my god,” she sighs as the mellow afterglow hits her in full force. “That was— wow, that was incredible.” 

“I am glad you enjoy it. Are you feeling less tense?”

She nods. “I need you inside of me.”

He sighs and looks off. “That will not be happening.”

“No,” she protests without thinking. “What are you talking about?”

“I already told you that I fight better when I am frustrated and medals are awarded in my event tomorrow.”

“You can’t leave me hanging like this.”

“You have already had two orgasms. Would you like another?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Gaby, I cannot. Not until after I have finished competition.” 

“Ugh,” Gaby groans. She crawls under the covers. She understands completely but that doesn’t mean she’s not annoyed. She didn’t even get to see him naked. He did manage to give her the most intense orgasm of her life so she’s really in no position to complain. “Fine. What time will you be finished?”

Illya has planted himself on the edge of the bed in an attempt to get himself back under control. He can’t even bring himself to look at her, not when he needs to compose himself and walk out of this room. 

“I will be done before you have even warmed up. I will find you when you get back from competition.”

“Good,” Gaby smirks, “because we’re finishing what we started.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Gaby smiles and lays back into the pillows. He goes and splashes cold water and kisses her goodnight, leaving her alone in the room. 

She sinks into the pillows and for the first time in a while she isn’t thinking about gymnastics. She isn’t thinking about much of anything. Tomorrow she is going to compete and they are probably going to lose. It doesn’t matter. She’s got all-around and vault and floor and no matter what happens she’s going to be okay.

She’s so lost in non-thought that she doesn’t even notice Brigitte enter the room. 

“Yes!” she cries noticing Gaby wrapped only in blankets. “You fucked the Russian. How was it?”

“Good,” Gaby says with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Who’s the next conquest going to be? The Dutch heavyweight crew team all seem like they’re down for some fun. I can introduce you.”

“I’m actually going to see Illya again tomorrow.”

“It must have really good then. Wow.”

“Yeah,” Gaby smiles, “he was.”

“Well, put some clothes on, we’ve got to get going.”


	3. 3

Illya arrives for his first match of the day on edge. He has never been quite so tense in his life. When he won bronze in London he’d just gotten out of the only relationship he’s ever been in. They’d begun dating during SVR RF training but the relationship fizzled when Nina was assigned to Directorate PR in Afghanistan while he was sent to Japan to work for Directorate X and to train for competitions. In truth, they would have fizzled anyway, but he credits the abrupt end to the relationship for his success in London. He hadn’t fought that well since he was at Cambridge studying engineering. Judo was an outlet for his frustrations that came from coursework and not quite fitting in with his classmates.

 

He destroys his opponent in the first match of the day. It’s the first of what he hopes to be many matches. It is. He has a decisive victory over his final opponent of the day.

 

He finds himself draped in the Russian flag celebrating and it’s all worth it. All the frustration of the night before is forgotten. He is an Olympic champion.

 

Following his win, he does some interviews for Russian television. He realizes that for the first time in years he has no obligations. He’s in between assignments for the SVR RF and he’s officially retiring from professional judo. When he returns to Moscow he’ll have the opportunity to request a two-year assignment almost anywhere he wants. He’ll have some language training and he’ll be off on a new assignment.

 

He’s retiring with Olympic gold. It’s an incredible feeling. He nearly cried on the podium listening to his national anthem.

 

His roommate in the village has walked away without a medal and has decided to cut his trip to Brazil short. He wants to see his wife and children back in Russia. Illya wishes him a safe journey home and tells him he is disappointed with his choice to leave but is silently pleased with the turn of events. He’s got big plans for the rest of the games, almost all of them involving the pretty German gymnast.

 

He checks his watch and realizes that he’ll be able to watch the end of the gymnastics team final. Plenty of athletes are already there to support the Russian gymnastics team. They have been consistently excellent, though not as excellent as they were during the Soviet Union. He sits with some acquaintances from his teams and cheers on the Russian team. He also finds himself silently cheering on the German team, for Gaby’s sake.

 

He is not able to see Gaby after she’s finished competing. She’s got to cool down and meet with the trainer. She wants to take a shower and put on sweatpants and crawl into bed.

 

 _Come over,_ he texts her. He’s back in his room playing chess on his phone, trying to distract himself.

 

 _I need to shower,_ she responds.

 

_Shower here, with me._

 

_I’ll be over in a few minutes._

_See you soon,_ he responds.

 

He waits patiently for her to arrive. There is a knock on the door a few minutes later. He opens the door and gives her a quick kiss on the lips.

 

“I hear you won gold. Congratulations,” she tells him. She’ll still in her warm-ups and leotard. She looks tired.

 

“Thank you. You did good today. Your floor routine was very clean.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about gymnastics.” The German team had finished 6th but it was a respectable performance all around.

 

“What do you want to talk about?”

 

“I don’t want to talk at all.”

 

“Okay,” he says. He sits down on the bed and gestures for her to join him.

 

He reaches up and takes out her scrunchie and removes bobby pin after bobby pin. Her hair is stuck in place from all the product. He runs his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and breaking up the strands.

 

She’s the one who leads him into the bathroom and turns on the shower. She runs her hands up his chest and pushes his warm-up jacket off. She removes his shirt and he pulls down her warm-up pants. She shrugs off her jacket and pulls his pants down. It’s not a sexy strip tease or even a frantic removal of clothing. It’s tentative.

 

She’s never had anyone take off one of her leotards for her. It’s not entirely sexy. She’s not wearing underwear, but a strip to prevent camel toe. She’s got glue holding her leotard in place and an ugly utilitarian bra on. He still helps her out of her clothes with the same hunger in his eyes as when she had on lingerie.

 

Finally, she slides off his boxers and they climb into the shower together. It’s really not a shower built for two people. Illya’s too tall for the shower but this isn’t about him. He washes the hairspray and glitter out of her hair and the whole thing is almost uncomfortably intimate. She’s hasn’t had sex with him yet but here they are, naked in the showers together as he washes all the traces of gymnastics out of her hair.

 

When he’s finished she drops to her knees and takes him by surprise with her lips on his dick. Her tongue slides up and down before swirls it around the tip and then takes him deep in her mouth. Illya nearly falls over as he gropes the wall for support.

 

“You’re so big,” she says as she gasps for air.

 

Her lips wrap around him again and his hips jerk. “Gaby, I’m not going to be able to last if you keep doing that.”

 

She says nothing but takes him deep in her throat much more. She continues until he comes hard and fast in her mouth. He slides down the wall of the shower and sits with her on the floor. He’d come embarrassingly fast, but he couldn’t help it. All the frustration and anticipation had made her lips on him too much to handle.

 

“Wow,” he says and she gets back up on her knees to kiss him. They sit on the shower for a minute as Gaby catches her breath. He stands up and turns the water off. He wraps a towel around his waist then covers Gaby in one.   


It’s Gaby who leads him to the bed and pushes him backwards onto it. She lets the towel drop the floor and climbs on top of him. She kisses him. It is gentle at first, but then his tongue parts her lips and he kisses her more deeply. He reaches up and takes one breast in his hand, continuing to kiss her like no one has never kissed her before.

 

He turns them on their sides and his towel falls free. His other hand rubs up and down her side, which she never knew could be this sensitive. Her skin burns under his touch.

 

She is wet and ready to go but he’s not. Still, she doesn’t regret what she did in the shower. It was payback from the night before. And, this is nice, kissing him. She can wait. It shouldn’t take that long before he is ready for another round.

 

She maneuvers herself back on top and rubs herself on his stomach before her lips find his again. She can feel him starting to get hard again so she decides to speed the process along. Gaby leans down, shoving her small but firm breasts onto his face. He happily takes one in his mouth. He swishes his tongue around the nipple and she lets out a moan.

 

“Are you ready?” she asks and he nods.

 

Gaby rolls off of him and opens his beside table drawer, pulling out a condom. She opens it and rolls it on for him. He makes a move to change the position, but she stops him.

 

            “I like to be on top,” she says and lowers herself onto him.

 

            It’s almost too much for her, having him inside of her. She stills, letting her body adjust to the size of him. It hurts a little but in the best possible way.

 

            Finally she is ready and begins moving atop him. He jerks his hips, following her rhythm and they fall into something comfortable. He’s hitting her at just the right angle in just the right spot. She tries to hold her orgasm off as long as possible so they’ll come at the same time but she can’t help it. Fortunately, once her walls start spasming he’s not far behind and they finish at the same time.

 

            She collapses on top of him, head against his chest and listens to the beating of his heart. She does not want to move, does not want to disconnect from him, but she must. She slides off and takes the condom and discards it before she heads into the bathroom. She does her business and washes her hands. In the mirror she sees a face just as exhausted as how she feels. She really should go back to her room and go to sleep but she doesn’t want to.

 

She wraps herself in a fluffy bathrobe that’s far too large for her and climbs back into bed to snuggle up against him. She decides to spend the night. She’d planned on going back and sleeping in her own room but her eyelids are as heavy as the arm he’s got draped over her. Sleep often eludes her but she can feel it coming.

 

She sleeps soundly beside him. It feels something like fate that she met him but she pushes the feeling down. She will probably never see him again after the games are over. She plans on making the most of the time she does have with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this was only supposed to be three chapters but i got carried away so now there's going to be five...


	4. 4

She scores a respectable 9th place in the all-around and sets her sights on the individual events. She fell off the beam during the competition but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s happy that she never has to get on a balance beam again if she doesn’t want to. Her floor routine is excellent and she feels confident that she will perform well in the individual event competitions. 

She finds herself back in Illya’s room because no matter how hard she tries she cannot stay away. There’s something about his presence that both calms her and puts her on edge. It has her sleeping better than ever and the limited sex she’d had before had been nothing like it is with Illya. She likes him more than she should after knowing him for such a short period of time. Even though she doesn’t want to, she should probably keep her distance so she won’t be too hurt when he returns to Moscow when the games are over. 

Despite his size and strength he is so gentle with her in bed that she finds it nearly impossible to believe he could never hurt her. But he will. He will return to Moscow and she will return to Berlin and she will flounder without gymnastics and without someone who understands what it’s like to dedicate your entire life to a sport. It’s almost cruel that they had to meet during the games. Their time together has an expiration date and the clock ticks louder the closer they get to the closing ceremony. 

They fall into bed because no matter how hard they try they can’t keep their hands off one another. They do make an attempt at watching a movie, but once he starts playing with her hair, it’s a lost cause. He has no idea the effect he has on her, or maybe he does and she doesn’t care. Suddenly they’re kissing and she’s fumbling through his nightstand looking for a condom. 

This time he insists on being on top. She supposes it’s fair. Since they’d started up days earlier they’d yet to repeat a position. This time he props one of her legs on his shoulder. The angle is uncomfortable at first but once they get going he has her screaming his name. 

They collapse in exhaustion and climb under the covers. She latches on to him and lets herself be soothed by the rise and fall of his chest. It’s then that his phone rings. He doesn’t answer the first time but it rings again and he knows it must be important. He pulls on some sweatpants and goes outside to take it. It’s his superior officer – the service is impatient to know where he’s going to put in for his next assignment. Illya doesn’t have an answer for him. Not yet. 

Inside, Gaby takes the opportunity to stretch her legs. Without his warm body the bed holds far less appeal. She crosses the room and finds herself admiring Illya’s medal on the desk.

“Do you want to put it on?” he asks, startling her.

“What?”

“I think it would look very nice on you.”

“Surely it must be back luck or something.”

“I do not think so. Here,” he says, slipping the medal over her head. The gold is cold against her bare skin. 

“It’s heavier than I thought it would be.”

“It looks good on you,” he notes. It lands between her pert breasts, her nipples harden from the cold. “I think it is a good sign for tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” she says, fingering the Olympic rings. She goes to take it off but he stops her. “Oh,” she grins wickedly, “you want me to leave it on.”

He nods and kisses her before throwing her onto the bed for another round. This has to be the final time today, she tells herself. If she’s too sore tomorrow she won’t perform as well as she should. 

This time is gentle, more so than ever before and she feels a connection deeper that should be possible after only a few days of knowing one another. When they’re finished he wraps his arms so tightly around her as if to prevent her from ever leaving his bed. 

“I have something I would like to talk to you about,” he says. 

She removes herself from his arms and turns to face him. “Alright.”

“I was on the phone before with my superior officer. I am due for another foreign post.”

“Where are they sending you?” She asks a little too quickly. 

“I can make a request. I have a choice.”

“So, what are you asking me?” She asks, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest. 

“I could request Berlin,” he says tentatively. “I was considering Germany anyway. It would not come with expectation. I mean, you do not have to see me if you do not want to.”

“I want to see you, Illya. I want to do this, but I don’t even know if I’ll be staying in Berlin. I don’t know if I can ask you to move to a city I don’t know I’ll even be in.”

“You do not have to decide now.”

“When do you need an answer?”

“I must have a decision when I return to Moscow.”

“Okay. We will decide. I’ll figure things out,” she leans across the bed and kiss him. “Does the FSB even allow involvement with foreign nationals?”

“I am not FSB. I told you. I write reports about science and technology.”

“I still think you’re a secret agent.”

“I am not. My job is boring. I read reports and then write new reports to explain technology and science.”

“I think I’d prefer if you were a secret agent. 

“Too bad.”

“I’m so jealous of you knowing what you’re doing after this. What am I going to do with myself after gymnastics?”

“What else do you like?”

“I don’t even know. I’ve never really done anything else. Maybe I’ll become a pilot or something.”

“Why? Have you ever flown before?”

“No, but it can’t be that different from gymnastics. Fly high and stick the landing.”

That elicits a small laugh from him. “You will figure it out.”

“Did you like studying engineering?”

“It was hard work but I enjoy science.”

“Maybe I’ll take from classes this call to figure things out.”

“I have faith that you will be brilliant no matter what you do.”


	5. 5

Gaby has the floor routine of her life. Her tumbling is not as difficult as the Americans’ but she is a much better dancer. She performs the dance elements better than the Americans and the Russians. She sticks every landing and executes better than she has ever done before. She strides off the floor knowing that she has done everything she possibly could for a chance at a medal. 

It is enough for her to get on the podium. She cries when the bronze medal is placed around her neck. She is ready to say goodbye to gymnastics. She looks up in the stands even though it’s hard to make out the faces in the crowd. She sees her Uncle Rudi sitting with her coaches near the bottom. He’d been appointed to the IOC when she was little and had pushed Gaby into the Olympic feeder program at a young age. He’d kept her involved in gymnastics even after her parents died, insisting it was a good outlet for the grief. They haven’t always gotten along, but he’s one of the main reasons she’s on the podium. 

She finds herself looking for Illya in the crowd. She can’t see him but she knows he’s there. In that moment she realizes she’s made her decision. She wants him in Berlin. She wants to give them a shot. He may end up breaking her heart, but she realizes she doesn’t care. She’ll commit to staying in Berlin. She’s not sure what she’ll do there but it will be okay. She (almost) always lands on her feet. 

Gaby tries to remember every moment of her Olympic medaling. She makes a point to take in every moment as the medal is placed around her neck. The rest of the day is a blur, despite her best efforts. 

Her cellphone dies from all the texts and calls and tweets and Facebook messages. She is shuffled from interview to interview. She is exhausted by the time she returns to the Athlete’s village. It’s nearly midnight but she’s too wired to sleep. 

Brigitte is snoring loudly across the room. Gaby changes quickly and heads out, hoping that Illya is still awake. 

She knocks on his door and waits. If he doesn’t answer soon she’ll knock again. She doesn’t care if she wakes him up. This is important. 

She raises her knuckles to knock again when the door opens suddenly, her fist slamming into Illya’s chest. 

“Hello,” he says with a smirk as he leans down to kiss her. It helps that she’s quite literally fallen into his arms. 

“I want you to come to Germany.”

“To visit or to --?”

“To live!” she nearly shouts as she pushes him into the room and closes the door behind her. She takes a step back and wraps one of his large hands with hers and squeezes slightly. “Illya, tell Moscow you want Berlin. When you get home tell them you’ve made your decision.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay? That’s it. That’s all you’re going to say?” she huffs, though she doesn’t really mean it. 

“Is not important now. What is important is celebrating your bronze medal. Congratulations, by the way. I tried to call you but your phone was dead.” His hands find her sides and she knows where this is headed.

“Illya,” she warns.

“Shh, there will be plenty of time for planning later. Let us enjoy tonight and celebrate your victory.” 

“I can’t sleep, I’m too wired.”

“I have methods. I think I could make you tired.”

“Not now, not yet, I mean.”

“Okay,” Illya says as he takes a seat on the bed. 

“We have to set some boundaries.”

“Okay.”’

“We can’t be doing this every night.”

“Okay.”

“And we have to do things that don’t involve sex too.”

“Okay.”

“Illya?”

“What?”

“I want just checking to make sure you were listening to me and not just okaying me.”

“I am listening and I agree to the conditions. I have one of my own if that is okay.”

“Of course.”

“I would like to sleep over one night a week if that is possible.”

“I would like that.”

“Good.”

“So it’s settled,” Gaby says. “We are not going to have sex every night of the week. We’re going to do things outside of the bedroom and we are going to have one sleepover a week. I think we can handle that.”

“I think so,” Illya smiles. “Now please, can we get on with the celebration?”

Gaby laughs and kisses him. He keeps his promise and wears her out. They barely leave the room until the closing ceremony. 

 

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> this was thrown together so let me know if you find any mistakes. 
> 
> two chapters of smut are coming your way.


End file.
